Family
by CSI-Sleuth
Summary: Grissom learns what is means to be part of a family. Ch 3 reloaded 7-19-02. Added chapter 4 on 7-18-02. This is a WIP. Please read and review.
1. Reflection

Title: Family - chapter 1 - Reflection  
  
By: CSI-Sleuth  
  
Rating: G  
  
Summary: Grissom analyzing Grissom  
  
Spoilers: post ep - Burden of Proof  
  
Authors Note: The characters aren't mine, never will be. I just like to get inside their head.  
  
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A family. That's what they'd become. He didn't quite know how or when, but she was right. They were a family. Not like any family he'd ever known, but then his experience with family was pretty limited. It had been just him and his Mom for as long as he could remember. He was the only child of only children so there was no extended family to gather 'round at Christmas. No family reunions every five years. Just him and his Mom. He never really knew his dad. He wasn't really sure how a family was supposed to function. Maybe that was his problem.  
  
Catherine always told him he wasn't good with people. In reality, he wasn't good with people who weren't either the victims or suspect in a case. At least he thought so. He could sit at the table of a mother who'd lost her daughter, empathize with her and vow to find who killed her loved one or sit and stare amused at a suspect who tried to tell his side (his lie) of the story. The suspects never knew how he knew just what to ask and when. They never realized how much the victims talked to him. It only seemed to be the people in authority over him or under him that he couldn't quite talk to, couldn't quite figure out. And that was his problem.  
  
He'd always been one to take charge of a situation. In the absence of a leader people naturally gravitated towards him. He wasn't really sure why. He liked order and seemed to know what the next step, hell, what the next ten steps were, long before anyone else did. He'd start giving directions and people actually listened. He found himself instructing them as to what they should do next. Teaching them what he knew. Delegating responsibility. Hmm, directions, teaching, delegating. Maybe that's what was missing?  
  
When he was put in charge of the night shift the leadership was official. But now it was different. There were meetings and paperwork and politics. Oh how he hated the politics. Couldn't he just do his job, solve the crime and move on to the next puzzle? He was fascinated with solving puzzles. They challenged his mind. Forced him to think outside the box. He loved setting up experiments to prove how and when someone had committed a crime. He always used to include those on his team. Teaching them what he knew, instructing them on what to do next and giving them the responsibility to follow through. And they started to look to him as their mentor, their father figure.  
  
He didn't even realize it was happening. It just did. Since Catherine was a single mom he guessed the others looked to her as the mom in the family. He always considered her to be the bratty little sister. Someone who knew just enough about him and his weaknesses to push all the right buttons. But also someone he could count on no matter what. As for the kids, at least that's how he thought of them, geez, they were all still in diapers when he started to work for the county. They always seemed to be looking for his approval or trying to outdo the other just to impress him. By the time he was their age he was already in charge of a team. Why couldn't they just figure it out and do it themselves. Or rather do it for themselves. Life wasn't about, shouldn't be about, trying to please others. It was about working and living up to your own set of ideals, values and standards. And at the end of the day being satisfied that you did all you were capable of and looking to yourself for approval not someone else.  
  
Except that wasn't always true. He was as guilty as the next of holding others up to his standards. He'd always been an overachiever and expected everyone else to live up to his expectations. He'd been given a gift few had and even fewer understood. And that was definitely a problem.  
  
But that scene with Sara. Man he must have been deaf, dumb and blind. That just came out of left field. What was she thinking, requesting a leave of absence? Didn't she know the lab needed her, her family needed her, hell, I need her. Whoa, wait a minute, did I just think that? Is that what this is all about? No, can't be. Sure I need her, but not that way. I value her work, her contribution. Would I have asked her to transfer from San Fran if I didn't? She's tenacious, wants to see justice done. If anything, her work is too much of her life. It's all she ever does. At least that I know about. I suppose that is a problem. If we're this family, and I'm the father figure, I suppose I should care more about their lives, their development as CSI's, their likes and dislikes. Hey, don't even start on that vegetarian thing.  
  
When Sara first arrived he'd taken the time to show her and teach her. He didn't take the time anymore, not with any of them. He wasn't sure why things had changed. It happened slowly. Now he kept more to himself. Didn't let others share in his experiments, his fun. Even Ecklie and the Sheriff didn't seem to bother him anymore. Maybe that Millander case got to him more than he'd realized. Life wasn't as predictable and orderly as he would like and the fear and terror inflicted on others that he was so good at analyzing, he wasn't so good at handling when it hit close to home.  
  
Home. Family. That's what his life at the lab was. But, he realized he wasn't fulfilling his responsibility. He'd become isolated, selfish even. That was going to have to change. But how? The Grand Tetons probably wasn't the answer. But he'd have to do something to keep this family, his family, together and happy. This wasn't something he was going to solve in one night (unlike most of the puzzles presented to him). This was a little more complicated. This was - personal. Well, that would be a start. Ask how their day off was, find out if they'd been to any movies lately, stop and say 'hi' and even 'good job' from time to time. Maybe even smile. Yes, that would be a start. It would be good to smile again. 


	2. Revelation

Title: Family - chapter two - Revelation  
  
By: CSI-Sleuth  
  
Rating: G  
  
Summary: Crossover between CSI, The Agency and even a little Patricia Cornwell. Grissom is asked to assist in a murder investigation that hits close to home.  
  
Spoilers: Nothing specific, just an idea based on the Grissom bio at cbs.com  
  
Authors Note: The characters aren't mine, never will be (unless of course I create someone new in which case I'll claim them as mine). This is just a creative diversion and a work in progress. Feedback is encouraged.  
  
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The bald man approached the receptionist at the front desk and quietly said, "I'm here to see Mr. Grissom."  
  
"Is he expecting you?"  
  
He calmly slid his ID across the front desk and replied, "No. Can't say that he is. Please tell him I need a few minutes of his time."  
  
Today is the first day of the rest of your life. At least that's what the saying was. If that were true, he'd have to start today to redirect the spiral of the past few months. He didn't have a clue what a family was supposed to act like. He'd have to ask for help. Not something he had any experience with. He'd been called to a crime scene before his shift started and hadn't had time to get to the office and call his team, his family, together. As he walked through the front door he wondered what they'd think of the rehabilitated Grissom.  
  
"Mr. Grissom. This man is waiting to see you."  
  
"And you are?"  
  
"Quinn. This young woman has cleared me," pointing to his lapel, "and provided a visitors pass. Can we go to your office?"  
  
Grissom not quite sure what to think responded, "Follow me."  
  
They made their way down the hall to his office. Greg and Nick approached from the other direction. "Hey Greg, I just processed a 420. I'll need your help as soon as possible. Thanks."  
  
"Sure Gris. As soon as I finish some stuff for Nicky here." Greg then turned to Nick. "Did he just say thanks?"  
  
"I think so. What's with that? You buy him some of that private coffee blend and not tell us?"  
  
As soon as the office door closed the bald man handed over his ID to Grissom and said, "Thank you, for seeing me. I understand your time is valuable."  
  
Grissom looked at the ID and frowned. He handed it back, looked at the man and calmly replied, "It isn't often we get the CIA in here. You're a little far from home aren't you?"  
  
"True." He'd been looking around the office while Grissom was examining his ID. He knew something of the man's background and expertise, but this guy's office décor was just a little creepy, yet homey. "We had something, or should I say someone, come up and for more than one reason your name came up."  
  
Grissom just looked at him. Didn't say a word. Waiting for the other man to continue. FBI. CIA. Didn't really matter. He didn't trust 'em. Especially when they stepped foot into his territory.  
  
"A body was discovered in the water near the Norfolk, Virginia port. The Virginia Medical Examiner did the post and determined the man had been in the water for only a short period of time. He did drown. But there was something else. A parasitic infection. Bugs, if you will. You do know about bugs?"  
  
Gil leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "You could say that. But I specialize in bugs that arrive at a body post mortem. Not parasites. I'm sure your ME in Virginia can tell you as much as I could. I hear she's pretty good."  
  
"No doubt, she's the best. As her lab was id'g the man they came across some other. anomolies. Seems he hadn't been in the U.S. that long. In fact, his body was probably dumped from a ship. Clothes, effects, etc. place him in Asia." He paused for just a moment, "How much do you know about your father?"  
  
He finally had Grissom's full attention. That last question was not expected. That was good.  
  
Grissom leaned forward and placed his palms on the desk. His sense of distrust had just turned to anger. "My father? What's this got to do with my father?"  
  
"Just answer the question." He watched Grissom's face change from anger to reflection as his body sunk back into the office chair.  
  
"Haven't seen him since I was five. Birthday cards, post cards from around the world used to come. Those stopped years ago." Grissom looked down to his folded hands and wondered why that no longer bothered him.  
  
"Do you remember what he did for a living?"  
  
Grissom looked up at the man, "Import/export business. Mom couldn't handle all the traveling he did, never knowing where he was, when he'd come home. I don't really have any first hand knowledge of what he did."  
  
"That sounds about right. The family never does know the whole story."  
  
"What are you talking about? Just what do you know about my father?" Grissom was starting to get angry again.  
  
"He was undercover in China. Built up a network of operatives that gave us all the details of Chinese military strength. The Chinese thought he was a disillusioned capitalist with a penchant for. Well, that's not important."  
  
Grissom couldn't believe, couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. "You're telling me my dad was a spy." It wasn't a question, just a statement, a fact. Almost like he'd known and now it was confirmed. Yes, he could comprehend. This explained a lot.  
  
"So, why tell me this now? If he's CIA and undercover?"  
  
"The body found in the waters off of Norfolk is that of your father." Before Grissom could respond, he held up his hand and continued. "We do need your help with the bugs, but more importantly, your father's file listed you as next of kin. He'd been keeping tabs on you. Even had this address listed as your place of employment."  
  
His momentary look of shock was now replaced by confusion. It'd been over 40 years since he'd seen his dad. At least 30 since the last post card. He just assumed, well he's not really sure what he assumed. Wasn't really sure he cared. Maybe that's why he had no concept of family, of what a father figure was supposed to be like. But now, to find out his dad knew where he was all this time. He didn't know what to think or feel. This was something he couldn't process.  
  
He took a deep breath. "So what now?"  
  
"We'd like you to come back to Washington for a few days. The lab techs collected some of the parasites and we'd like your opinion. We also need to transfer some personal items to you."  
  
"I'll need to make a few calls. When do you need me?"  
  
"Today. There's a plane standing by at McCarran. We'll give you a couple of hours to settle things here and go home to pack. There will be a car waiting at your house to drive you to the airport. Yes, your dad had that address as well."  
  
All Grissom could do was stare after the man as he left the office. He hesitantly picked up the phone and called the Sheriff. He sure didn't like getting a 2 am wake-up call. Especially one that pulled his lead supervisor out of town for an undetermined length of time. Grissom went on- line and filled out an official vacation request form, starting immediately with an open ended return. Next he'd have to call Catherine.  
  
"Willows."  
  
"Cath, it's Gil. Look something's come up and I have to go to DC for a few days. Can you take over shift?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. I mean at least until Thursday, then VACATION. I promised Lindsey we'd go to Disneyland. Everything ok? Anything you want to share??"  
  
"No. Not right now. Maybe, maybe when I get back. Thanks Cath."  
  
Just as he'd hung up with Catherine, Sara walked past his office.  
  
"Sara!"  
  
Sara made a quick u-turn and stopped at Grissom's door.  
  
He waved her in and said, "Um, come on in and shut the door."  
  
Sara screwed up her face trying to figure out what this was all about. She shut the door behind her and said, "By the way, thanks for the plant. You didn't have to do that."  
  
Grissom was definitely uncomfortable with this conversation, even if he did initiate it.  
  
"Well, you know. I'm not that good with people."  
  
"Is that an apology?"  
  
Grissom just shrugged not quite knowing what to say. Trying to get back on track he added, "Uh, something's come up and I have to go away for a few days. Catherine can cover shift 'til Thursday. You think you can handle the boys after that while I'm gone?"  
  
"I still have that leave of absence request in. Or did you forget? You think putting me in charge for a few days will change my mind?"  
  
Gil put his hands up as if in surrender, "Yeah, well, I do want to talk to you about that, but it's got to wait until I take care of this, thing. Honest. I just need. I need you to stick around. And not just for a few days. I. I can't get into it right now. Trust me, ok?"  
  
"Ok." Although Sara really wasn't quite sure.  
  
"Thanks. Look I gotta run. Cath will take over from here and then hand off to you on Thursday. And please, don't make any decisions without talking to me first. Deal?" And with that he smiled.  
  
"Deal." It was all she could say. She hadn't seen that smile in ages. How could she refuse?  
  
Sara watched as Gil grabbed his briefcase off his desk, his coat off the hook and walked out the door leaving her standing in his office thinking, "What the hell was that all about?"  
  
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"So it's true, Grissom's gone?" Nick was grilling Catherine just as she was about to start the end of shift meeting.  
  
"It's true. Look all I know is he said he had to go to DC for a few days. He didn't say why."  
  
It was time for Warrick to share his news. "Reception said he got a visitor from CIA just before he bolted."  
  
That got Sara riled, "CIA? What's he doing with CIA? He won't even cooperate with the FBI when they're in town. Now he follows the CIA to DC?"  
  
"Hey, we don't know who he's following or why. Just calm down. Looks like I'm in charge until Thursday."  
  
"Yeah, and I take over after that." Sara looked quickly at Nick and Warrick to see how they'd react.  
  
"You? What about me? I got seniority ya know."  
  
"Chill Nick. Trust me, it's not a job you really want. G'luck Sara."  
  
"Thanks Warrick. I think."  
  
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Grissom got out of the car and started up the stairs of the private jet. "Got it Jim. Thanks." Gil had a look of satisfaction on his face as he flipped the cell phone closed and put it in his shirt pocket.  
  
He'd made one last stop before leaving the office. He went to see Brass. Although all he did was hand him a piece of paper. He wasn't sure if Brass would be able to get what he wanted, but Jim had pulled through.  
  
Brass had a look of confusion on his face when he'd read the note:  
  
Robert Quinn. CIA. Langley. Don't use my team. Call me on my cell in an hour. - G  
  
Grissom saw Quinn was already settled into his seat on the left side of the plane. After handing his bags to someone who was dressed like a flight attendant he sat down in a seat opposite Quinn. Grissom was used to the night shift and pulling doubles. He didn't plan on sleeping on the cross- country flight. This was a time to collect data.  
  
He'd barely sat down and buckled in when the stairs were folded up and the plane was moving. Damn they were fast. He looked up to see if Quinn had read his thoughts. Nope, it looked like Quinn was planning to sleep on the flight. Now he'd have to ask fast. He'd wanted to wait until they were in the air and he had a drink in his hand, but now it couldn't wait.  
  
Grissom leaned back in his seat and brought his hands together in front of him, his fingers forming a temple, "So, why send you and not some flunkie? Former director of the CIA flies to Vegas to track down the long lost son of an agent? That's a bit overboard don't you think?"  
  
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	3. Discovery

Title: Family - chapter 3 - Discovery  
  
By: CSI-Sleuth  
  
Rating: G  
  
Summary: Grissom's first day in DC abounds in discovery. Discovery of memories, identities, information and even more questions.  
  
Authors Note: The characters aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for a little creative diversion. Thanks to those of you who write CSI Fan Fic, Bravo! Keep it up. You inspire and entertain me. Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.  
  
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It was quickly apparent Quinn was not going to help Grissom with his data collection. When Grissom looked up to see how Quinn would react to his question, the man's eyes were still closed. He'd met all kinds in his work, but Quinn was something else entirely. There was just something about the man. Grissom knew he was holding something back. He glanced around the plane and realized there was no one else in the cabin. Since he obviously wouldn't be talking to Quinn, he might as well get some sleep. Who knew what the day might bring.  
  
Grissom settled into his seat for the flight and tried to sleep but there were too many thoughts running through his head. Usually he could turn off his work like a switch and go right to sleep. The uncertainty of his work demanded that he be able to recharge whenever the opportunity arose. This was different though. This wasn't just another case. This was his father.  
  
He had so few memories of him. No five-year-old expected someone to leave so abruptly. He just wasn't equipped at that age to understand and file away the memories. He'd seen enough children traumatized in his job that he was thankful the memories of youth didn't always leave a permanent impression. Just today, he wished they had. His mother had taken down all the photographs and never again mentioned his father's name. Like he never existed. Gil never knew why he left, where he went or if he'd ever come back. It was just before he went to his first day of school. He and his dad had spent summer days at the beach collecting sand crabs. They'd even gone out one night at midnight, way past his bedtime, to watch the grunion run. Everything had changed that day when his mom called him home from Jimmy's house. "Gil! Gil!"  
  
"Gil. Wake up. We're here."  
  
If the seatbelt hadn't been fastened Gil would've jumped out of his seat. Quinn was shaking his shoulder trying to wake him up. Grissom looked up at him and quickly remembered where he was and why. He wasn't five. He wasn't at Jimmy's. But yes, his dad had left. Maybe now all those unanswered questions could be laid to rest.  
  
Gil gathered his bags and followed Quinn down the stairs to the waiting car. He was glad he had his coat. It may have been spring, but the 11:00 am April air in DC was still cooler than the early morning air of Vegas. During the 45 minutes it took to get from Andrews AFB to CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia Quinn never said a word.  
  
They walked in the doors of the impressive front lobby. While Quinn took care of Grissom's security badge Gil looked around. His eyes rested on a quote etched into the marble walls, "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." Closure maybe, peace of mind, but free? Grissom didn't think so.  
  
Quinn led Grissom through the maze of hallways to the science labs. Grissom silently observed the people, the equipment, the quiet. They walked into a lab that looked remarkably similar to his own. A woman was seated at a raised table reading a file. She stood as they approached.  
  
Quinn offered, "Gil Grissom, meet Dr. Kay Scarpetta."  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Your reputation precedes you."  
  
"As does yours Mr. Grissom."  
  
"Please, call me Gil."  
  
Kay nodded her head and simply said, "Gil."  
  
Before leaving the room, Quinn added, "Looks like you two can handle things. I'll be in my office if you need anything. Gil, come see me at 4."  
  
"Sure." Gil replied and then got right to work. As he approached the table and the open file he asked, "So how'd you id him?"  
  
"Believe it or not, as secret as they are, the CIA does keep prints of their agents. It took some digging and security clearances, but we finally got a match." Kay slid the file over in front of Gil and said, "George Washington Grissom."  
  
Grissom paused for just a moment. Until now, Quinn had only referred to his father generically. He vaguely remembered calling him father or dad as a child. He couldn't remember ever hearing anyone say his father's full name out loud. Slowly he reached for the file.  
  
On top of the open file was a fingerprint card and underneath it some microscope slides. Kay noticed his discomfort and looked away for a brief moment. It couldn't be easy reviewing the case file of a family member.  
  
Grissom picked up the card and silently slipped it into his pocket while at the same time pulling out the first of the slides and putting it under the microscope. The easiest way to handle this was to just think of it as another case. "So these are the parasites you found?"  
  
Kay returned her attention to Grissom, "Yes, Taenia solium, the pork tapeworm."  
  
Grissom lifted his head from the microscope and looked at Kay, "Cysticercosis? Did you find any lesions on the brain?"  
  
"We didn't get the chance. As soon as ID came in we got a call from CIA saying they were taking over the case. We closed up the body and had it transported here. What are you thinking?"  
  
"Tapeworm larvae form cysticerci. It's not uncommon for the cysts to be found in the brain causing neurocysticercosis. Symptoms present as seizures, headaches, confusion, difficulty balancing." Grissom returned his attention to the slides.  
  
"You do know about bugs."  
  
"Some."  
  
"So if there are lesions on his brain then maybe"  
  
Grissom interrupted with, "he wasn't murdered." He looked up at Kay, "He still may have been pushed into the water, but just as likely he got disoriented and fell."  
  
"That might be a little hard to prove. We still haven't figured out where he went into the water let alone which ship might be involved."  
  
Grissom smiled just a little. "Do you know if they have a simulation tank here? Based on his skin discoloration you determined he was in the water for just a few hours, right? If we can get the weather and tidal information for that night we might just be able to figure out where he went into the water." Grissom held up the x-rays from the file. "Judging from the broken ribs and leg, he fell quite a ways. We can probably rule out a pier. A ship sounds about right. With shipping information we should be able to pin point the ship involved."  
  
Kay just shook her head; "I forgot you do this for a living. So often when I'm asked to talk to the family of the victim they don't know what I'm talking about or what questions to ask." She paused a moment, "You know, even if we do figure out which ship is involved, it's probably long gone. We may not be able to answer whether it was murder or an accident."  
  
"Maybe, maybe not. But, I don't like holes. We have to fill them somehow."  
  
They spent the next hour going over the contents of the file, reviewing the slides, x-rays and notes, each of them writing down what still needed to be done and which questions remained unanswered. The autopsy room was next door to the lab. While they were reviewing the file, Quinn had the body delivered. Together they went next door to start their work.  
  
Kay was just behind Grissom when he stopped at the door. He was trying to remind himself this was just another case, but it wasn't, was it? This time the body on the table belonged to his father. A man he barely knew, but he was still family. But for all he knew of him, he might as well be a stranger. Gil took a deep breath and stepped into the room and up to the table. He pulled the sheet back and looked at a face that resembled his own, just older. "So that's what I'll look like when I'm 70?" he thought. He reached out with his left hand and gently touched the curly gray hair. "Why?" It was just a whisper but the years of unanswered questions could be heard in just one word. He was on the verge of anger and tears when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry Gil."  
  
A sigh escaped his lips, "Thanks Kay." After a brief pause he straightened up, turned to Kay and said, "Let's get to work, shall we?"  
  
They spent the next several hours collecting the evidence she hadn't been able to gather in her own lab. They worked quietly, classical music playing softly in the background. When the last sample had been taken Kay looked up, "Gil, thanks for the help. I'll go next door and get started. Didn't Quinn say he wanted to see you at 4?"  
  
Gil looked at his watch, it was five minutes to 4. "Yeah, he did. Meet back here tomorrow morning?"  
  
"Sure. I should have most of this processed and we can try to fill your holes."  
  
Gil smiled and left the room to find Quinn.  
  
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Grissom was in Quinn's office, but there was no Quinn. The office certainly said something about the man. Very sparse, not a thing out of place and dark.  
  
"Did you find what you're looking for?" Quinn asked from behind Grissom.  
  
Grissom turned and looked at Quinn, "Sorry?"  
  
"Did the body speak to you?" Quinn clarified.  
  
"Some. We're going to go over everything in the morning. We found some answers but we have even more questions."  
  
"You'll let me know what you find then?" Quinn pressed.  
  
"We'll keep you posted," replied Grissom. Grissom thought this guy was beginning to sound a bit like the Sheriff.  
  
"Well then I guess it's time to visit the vaults."  
  
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As they walked through the labyrinth of hallways, elevators and access controlled doors they didn't stop to talk to anyone. Several people approached Quinn but he just waved them off. Grissom continued to think something very strange was going on. They finally found their way to a sub- basement with two guards in front of a vault door. Quinn signed a logbook and showed his authorization. As the guards entered the vault, Grissom noticed it looked a lot like a safe deposit vault at his local bank. Row upon row of small silver doors requiring two keys, one from each guard. The guards found the door Quinn signed for, opened it, and removed a long, shallow silver box. They were about to close the door when Quinn quickly opened the box, removed the contents and returned the empty box to the guards. Before the guards could complete their process Quinn had turned away and was leading Grissom back out the way they came.  
  
Instead of going back to his office, Quinn escorted Grissom out one of the building exits to a waiting car. Only then did he hand over the items from the vault. "Before your father left China, he sent these items through another means. He wanted to make sure they arrived safely." Quinn looked to the car, "Roger will take you to your hotel. I suggest you take your time and go through these items very carefully. We can discuss things later."  
  
Grissom reached out for the items and replied, "Thank you." Quinn just nodded and walked away leaving Grissom standing there. Roger had already opened the rear passenger door. Since there was to be no more conversation, Grissom got in and Roger shut the door. In moments they were leaving the grounds of the CIA.  
  
Gil stared at the items in his hands. There were about a dozen envelopes, a small red leather bound book and a very old map of Los Angeles. He wasn't sure how far they were going and Gil didn't want the driver to see his reaction to the items so he waited. Less than half an hour later they pulled up to a side entrance of the Marriott Wardman Hotel in Washington DC. As Gil got out of the car, Roger handed him a plastic room key and instructed Gil on how to get to his room. He took the key as Roger informed him he'd be back at this very same entrance at 9:00 the next morning to take him back to CIA headquarters, until then he was on his own.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Gil found the room without much effort. It was an understatement to call it a room. He walked in to find himself in what had all the appointments of an upscale two-bedroom suite. There was a large foyer with a baby grand piano just inside the front door. To the left were two doors leading to a large master bedroom and a second bedroom set up like an office. Beyond the foyer was a large living room with a big screen TV. To the right of the foyer was a dining room and a door that led to a fully functioning kitchen. A quick look in the frig revealed some bottled water and a six- pack of his favorite beer. He grabbed a beer and headed into the living room. He opened the drapes and marveled at the site before him. His room faced southeast. In the foreground he could see Rock Creek Park and in the distance the top of the Washington Monument pierced the sky. It was close to sunset and the sky was several shades between orange and purple. He'd been to Washington DC before, but he'd never had a view like this. The lights of this town were so different than those back home but beneath the lights the same games were played for wealth and power. The two towns weren't really all that different.  
  
Grissom finally looked down at the items in his hand and decided it was time to face his father. He took a closer look at the small book and saw it was a very worn copy of "George Washington's Rules of Civility and Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation." "I guess he really took his name to heart," Grissom said aloud to no one. He decided to begin with the envelopes. All but one has gone through the postal system. He took a closer look at the processed envelopes. Each one had the same return address in LA although the postmarks were from various places and they were all sent to the same address in London. He started with the envelope with the oldest postmark and worked his way forward. Each envelope held a single picture he'd never seen before. Very familiar places and times but never had he seen these images. They were of his high school and college graduation, the day he went to work for the county, his first day on the job in Las Vegas. Quinn was right; his dad had been keeping tabs on him. His dad hadn't been present, but somehow he was always there.  
  
He opened the last envelope. The only one without a postmark or return address. In it was a piece of brown paper that had been folded and refolded many times. As he unfolded it a black and white photo dropped out. He picked the photo up off the floor and stared. He was looking at a younger version of himself with a small boy in front of a Ferris wheel. On the white border around the edge of the photo was written "G & G - Chase Park - August 19, 1961." As he stared at it he started to remember. It was just two days after his fifth birthday. A day he remembered so well because it meant he was old enough to go to school. He already had his library card and had been reading for about a year. He couldn't wait to go to school and learn. And his dad had got him his first bug book for his birthday. A small smile crept across his face.  
  
The Saturday after his birthday there was a carnival at the park not far from their house. Just he and his dad went since his mom didn't like the rides. He closed his eyes and remembered, remembered. There were roller coasters and bumper cars and clowns. Booths were set up everywhere to try your luck to win a prize. His dad had handed his camera to someone to take a picture of them in front of the Ferris wheel. He opened his eyes, looked down at the photo, finished unfolding the paper, saw the paint and remembered.  
  
On the outer edges of the carnival were more booths. People were selling all sorts of hand made items. There were tables set up where kids could decorate cookies, get their faces painted or make handprints. He followed his dad over to the handprint table. Even though he liked bugs, he remembered he didn't like to get his hands dirty. That hadn't changed. He still wore gloves at every crime scene and while working in the lab. His dad showed him how easy it was. "Just dip your hand in the paint like this", he remembered seeing his dad's hand in the blue paint, "and then put your hand on the paper like this." His dad placed his hand flat on the brown paper. When he lifted it up there was his dad's hand in blue paint. "Come here son, you try it." Gil had dipped his hand in yellow paint. His dad's hand was so big there was no more room on the paper and he couldn't find another piece. Paint was starting to drip everywhere. His dad gently took his hand and laid it flat against the paper in the middle of his blue handprint. "That wasn't so hard was it?" As he lifted Gil's hand he said, "See, now your hand will always be in mine."  
  
His dad left about a week later. He didn't even get to see him go to his first day of school. And Gil never saw the handprint again. When his mom took down all the family pictures he figured the print ended up with them. He cocked his head to one side. Handprint. He stared at it a little closer now. Some of the paint had cracked, but he definitely saw fingerprints circa 1961. He pulled the print card from his pocket. He wasn't sure why he had taken it earlier, but it had seemed important. Without a lab at his disposal he couldn't tell if they matched. He looked through the magnifier he always carried with him. To the naked eye he couldn't be sure. He'd need some help.  
  
The extra bedroom had everything a business traveler could need including a scanner fax machine on the dresser. He was about to use it when he stopped to think. He hadn't checked himself in at the hotel. The driver had given him the key and directions to the room. He was in DC visiting the CIA; it was a safe bet they'd be monitoring anything going on in the room. He looked at his watch. It was almost 9:00 pm. He hadn't realized he'd been looking at everything for so long. He carefully refolded the handprint and put it back in the envelope. The phone book was on the nightstand next to the bed. It took only a minute for him to find what he was looking for. He slipped the envelope and the fingerprint card into his pocket, grabbed his coat and walked out the door. In the lobby he talked briefly to the concierge and then headed out the front door to hail a cab.  
  
A few minutes later he was in Georgetown. As they were driving west on M Street he had the cab pull over. After paying the driver, Grissom kept walking west for another block. He ducked into a Kinko's, pulled a copier counter from the rack and headed to a machine. First he needed a good copy of the handprint. He took the envelope out his pocket, removed the brown paper and carefully unfolded it. He placed it face down on the copier and hit 'Start.' It took about three tries before he got a properly exposed copy showing the ridge detail on the fingertips. Next he made a copy of the CIA fingerprint card.  
  
On a table in the center of the copiers Grissom found a black marker. On the copy of the fingerprint card Gil carefully blotted out the name "George Washington Grissom." The fingerprint card only took up half of the page. He folded the paper in half and placed the bottom edge against the glass closest to him on the copier. Then he took the copy of the handprint and placed it on top, layering it so that the copy of the CIA print card covered the smaller print in the middle, his hand. He pressed 'Start.' The copy now showed both sets of his fathers prints on one piece of paper. He circled the fingerprints in the handprint and labeled them 'A' in the left margin. He did the same with the CIA prints labeling them 'B'. On a blank piece of paper he wrote out his note.  
  
After collecting all his originals, botched copies and the final copy he removed the copy counter from the machine and headed to the cashier. He handed over two pages and asked that they be faxed to the number on the cover page. He waited for the fax to go through and to receive the fax confirmation page. He tucked everything into his jacket pocket and then went outside and started walking east, pulling out his cell phone as he did. He dialed and waited.  
  
"Willows."  
  
"Catherine, it's Gil."  
  
"Hey, how the heck are you? Everything OK?"  
  
"Yeah. Just wanted to check in and let you know I'd made it safely."  
  
"Sara will be glad to hear that. She about freaked when she heard the CIA was involved."  
  
"How'd she know that? I didn't even tell you."  
  
"Warrick got it from reception."  
  
"Figures. Listen, I'm expecting a fax on the machine in my office about a case I was working before I left. I needed some outside help with a match on some exotic plants. When you get in can you see if it's there, and then give me a call on my cell. OK?" He wasn't sure if the CIA would be tracking his cell phone, so he wasn't going to take any chances.  
  
"No prob. I'm about to drop Lindsey off at my sisters. I should be there in a half hour or so."  
  
"Don't rush. I'm heading to a sports bar in Georgetown for some dinner and baseball."  
  
"That's right, the season finally started. Enjoy."  
  
"Count on it."  
  
Gil flipped the phone closed and looked up. Right in front of him on the corner of M and Wisconsin was Champions. As soon as he walked in he knew he'd have to thank the concierge. He found a seat at the bar. A quick look around and he could see at least a half a dozen ball games in progress. Heaven.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Catherine walked into Grissom's office and headed straight to his fax machine. There were two pieces of paper in the collection tray.  
  
"That's odd."  
  
"What's odd?" Sara had seen Catherine walk past the break room and had followed her to Grissom's office.  
  
Catherine was so surprised she dropped the pages. "Geez, Sara, you gotta make a little more noise when you sneak up on someone."  
  
"Sorry. You hear from Grissom?"  
  
"Yeah, he just called. Don't worry the CIA hasn't made him disappear yet." Catherine looked up at Sara just in time to see her face relax just a bit. "Look, I've got to see what's come in, take care of something and then I'll hand out assignments. See you in the break room in half hour?"  
  
"Sure, I'll tell the guys." Sara walked back down the hall to find Nick and Warrick.  
  
Catherine picked the pages up off the floor and read the handwritten note on the cover page from Gil:  
  
Cath - scan these into our computer. Check if the A prints match the B prints. Don't run them through any db's yet. I don't want to raise any alarms. Call me when you're done. tks, G  
  
Before heading down the hall to the print lab, Catherine looked up the call sheet on the computer and printed it out. Next she found Mandy in the print lab.  
  
"Mandy, can you look at something for me real quick?" Catherine handed the faxed prints to Mandy. "I need to know if the two sets of prints on this page match. Don't run the prints through any of our databases. Just find me when you're done. Oh yeah, I need it yesterday." Catherine turned and walked out of the lab.  
  
Mandy just shook her head as Catherine walked away. She refocused her attention on the faxed page in front of her and scanned the prints into the computer.  
  
After handing out assignments, Catherine headed back to Grissom's office where Mandy was waiting for her. As Mandy walked away Catherine pulled out her cell phone and called Gil. Through the earpiece she heard a familiar voice raised a few decibels and an octave "No way that was a strike!" followed a moment later by a much calmer more normal "Grissom."  
  
"I take it you and the ump aren't getting along?"  
  
After Grissom took a drink of his beer he replied, "You could say that. I swear he's blind. Anything?"  
  
"Well, the info came in on your exotic plants. The samples don't match."  
  
"Really." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Gil, you wanna tell me what's going on?"  
  
"Not now. I'm still working on a few holes. I'll fill you in later. Hey, my boy Karros is up to bat. Gotta go."  
  
Catherine just stared at her phone as the conversation was cut off.  
  
Gil reached for his beer and silently considered the information he just received. Not a match. That raised two questions, just who was the dead guy at CIA headquarters and where was his father?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
to be continued. 


	4. Questions

Title: Family - chapter 4 - Questions  
  
By: CSI-Sleuth  
  
Rating: G  
  
Summary: Grissom has more questions about his father's reported death.  
  
Authors Note: The characters aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for a little creative diversion. This is a work in progress. Feedback is encouraged.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
After a few more beers and many more glorious innings of baseball, Gil reluctantly went back to the hotel. He flopped down on the couch and thought about the last 24 hours. Ever since that question "What do you know about your father?" he'd been out of sorts. Every time he thought he was walking towards an answer, there was a bend in the road that took him somewhere else. He knew if he could just sit down and sort it all out, something so very routine for him, he could figure it out. He hadn't counted on the emotional aspect of this case. Emotional involvement in a case - that was definitely foreign territory.  
  
He replayed everything from the beginning. He knew there was something he'd overlooked. Something that didn't fit. What was it Quinn had said in his office? A body in the water near Norfolk. Drowned. Parasitic infection. Body dumped from a.  
  
Gil suddenly sat up. That was it. In the office bedroom he found some paper and a pen. He sat back on the couch and started taking notes.  
  
1. How did Quinn know the body was dumped if the ME ruled the death a drowning?  
  
He thought back over the findings in the case file. He couldn't remember the fact he was searching for. Another question appeared on the pad.  
  
2. Was the water in the lungs salt or fresh?  
  
Then there was that unanswered question from the plane:  
  
3. Why did Quinn, former CIA director, come for me?  
  
Grissom was on a roll now. He quietly contemplated as he continued to write down more questions. Each question seemed to lead to yet another.  
  
4. With one of the best ME's in the country on the case why did they need me for the investigation?  
  
Quinn could have easily brought the effects and a copy of the file to Vegas.  
  
5. Quinn wanted me there for a reason, but why?  
  
6. Did Quinn know about the false fingerprint card?  
  
Quinn had certainly looked through his father's effects and knew about the handprint. So Quinn probably knows, but,  
  
7. does anyone else at CIA know? Why the mystery? Why not just tell me my dad's alive but no one else is to know?  
  
And there was something odd about that whole walk to the vault and back. He kept writing.  
  
8. Why was it necessary to follow Quinn to the vault and observe that whole security procedure?  
  
9. Who was the dead guy? Does Quinn know? Did Quinn have a part in the man's death? Was his death an accident or murder?  
  
10. Just what is Quinn's connection to my father?  
  
He thought back over the questions he and Kay had come up with earlier in the day and added a few of them to his list.  
  
11. Cysts present in the brain and spinal cord?  
  
12. Signs of a head injury?  
  
13. Where did he go into the water? And how?  
  
He looked back over his list to see if he'd left anything out. All of the other questions seemed moot as he added one more question.  
  
14. Where is my father?  
  
The last time he'd seen him had been the morning he went to Jimmy's. He was five. They were in California. He picked up his father's map of LA that Quinn had given him. It showed signs of wear. The copyright date on the front was 1956. As he opened it he noticed some tears along the folds. He placed the opened map on the coffee table in front of him. The roads and city names were very familiar. But there were a lot fewer of them on this map.  
  
He traced his finger along the highways and began to notice some writing on the map. He adjusted his reading glasses and looked closer. He saw a star and the date '08/19/61' near the home he had shared with his mom. To the north was another star and the date '06/17/78'. The date of his college graduation. The date the photo was taken. He reached for the envelopes and one by one matched the stars and handwritten dates to the photos in the envelopes. He looked at the map, trying to see if there were any more clues. A little northeast of downtown LA he was sure he saw a star. He pulled out his magnifier. Sure enough there was a star, but no date. Grissom looked up and saw his own puzzled reflection in the window overlooking DC.  
  
He got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen for some water. As he walked through the foyer he caught the site of something white out of the corner of his eye. He glanced towards the door. On the floor just inside the front door was an envelope. He was sure it hadn't been there when he walked in and he hadn't heard a sound since he'd been in the room. Well, he had been lost in thought and he'd been known to tune everything and everybody else out when he tried to solve a puzzle. He forgot about the water. He'd thrown his coat on top of the baby grand on his way in. He pulled a pair of gloves out of the pocket and picked up the envelope.  
  
He examined the envelope as he headed back to the couch. It was very similar to the others. The same return address was in the top left corner, but there was no postmark and no stamp. This time it was addressed to 'Gil Grissom - Marriott Wardman - Washington DC'. The envelope flap was not sealed but tucked inside. He pulled the flap up. This time there was something with the photo in the envelope. First he looked at the photo. It was a Polaroid of him boarding the private jet in Vegas on his way to DC. That made him pause for just a moment. He wasn't sure if he should be scared or angry. He reached for the pad of paper.  
  
15. Who is following me?  
  
He finally looked at the second item in the envelope. It was a ticket. A ticket to a baseball game at Dodger Stadium for Friday.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He woke up the next morning knowing he and Kay had some results to go over and as much as the scientist in him wanted answers to all the questions, all that really seemed to matter was that his father was alive and he needed to be in LA by the end of the week. But before leaving DC, he had someplace he had to visit. The driver was due to meet him at 9 a.m. He'd make a stop before heading to CIA headquarters.  
  
The car pulled up to the address he gave the driver and he noticed the place was deserted. It was located a good walking distance from all the main DC attractions on the Mall. He guessed not many people came over this way unless they knew where it was or had a reason to visit. Grissom had a reason.  
  
He walked past the small reflecting pool and the lion guarding the low sweeping wall on the west side of the memorial. His eyes gazed at the names etched into the wall, each one representing an officer killed in the line of duty. He was at the National Law Enforcement Memorial. He walked past the names and saw the mementos left by loved ones and friends: flowers, flags, and an occasional letter. He reached the end of the wall and walked to the opposite side and started looking at the names. He wouldn't find the one he was looking for.  
  
Technically, he wasn't a cop and neither was anyone on his team, or anyone who used to be on his team. It had been Holly's first night as a CSI. Brass was determined to have her running by the end of her first shift. Only she didn't end up running. She ended up dead.  
  
Everyone had taken it very hard. It was the whole reason Sara had come to Vegas. She came in at a very difficult time for all of them and was given the task of investigating why Warrick had left Holly alone at the crime scene. He'd finally cleared Warrick and they all moved on, but there really didn't seem to be a sense of closure for any of them. He was hoping this visit would help him.  
  
He was about halfway through the eastern wall when he saw her. She was on her knees, her finger tracing a name on the wall. Flowers lay at the base of the wall where she was kneeling. He slowly approached her and spoke softly, "Good men must die."  
  
"but death cannot kill their names." The woman at the wall finished the quote for him.  
  
He watched her rise to her feet, "I'm sorry to interrupt." He paused. "I'm also sorry for your loss."  
  
"Thank you, but I didn't actually know him." She could see the questioning look on his face. "He was a friend of a friend. I've got a brother and a good friend in law enforcement. Both have colleagues, friends, with names on this wall. I come here to remember their friends and pray I never have to come back here to see their names etched on this wall. I'm not sure I could handle that."  
  
"I know what you mean." This time it was her turn to have a questioning look on her face. "A colleague of mine was killed on the job last year. I hoped coming here would bring some closure."  
  
This time it was her turn to say, "I'm sorry."  
  
"Thanks." He knew he shouldn't ask the next question, but somehow it came out. "You want to grab a cup of coffee or something?"  
  
"Thank you, but no. I have someplace I have to be." She paused just a moment. "This is a very peaceful place. A good place to reflect on things. I hope you find the closure you're looking for."  
  
With that she walked off and left him staring at the names on the wall. He moved towards the southern end of the wall and found what looked like new etchings. He read the names and started to recognize a few. The stories were still so fresh. He knelt down in front of them and gently touched the names. They were heroes that day in September. Then he did something he hadn't done in a long time. He prayed. Prayed there wouldn't have to be any more names added to this wall. That no one else would have to sacrifice their lives for peace. He silently remembered Holly, and then got up and walked slowly back to the car. Before getting in he turned back towards the memorial. She was right it was a peaceful place. May they all rest in peace. He stood a little straighter and said aloud, "Holly, rest in peace."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He met up with Kay in the lab. "I've been getting to know your father. He has a very interesting story to tell." Kay looked at Gil and noticed a rather blank look on his face. "If you're not up for this, I completely understand."  
  
"No, it's not that." Gil paused. "I'm sorry Kay, I need to get back home. I know we were going to work together on this, but something related came up." He reached into his coat pocket, "Here's my card. When you've found all the answers and filled all the holes, give me a call."  
  
Kay took his card. "I will. Have a safe trip." Kay hesitated while Grissom nodded his head and turned to leave. She called out after him, "Gil, you may not like the answers either of us find."  
  
Gil turned back to look at her, "I know that Kay. But we've both got to follow the evidence to wherever it takes us. Whether we like the answers or not." He gave her a half-smile and then leaned over and gave her a quick hug. "Thanks for your help. If you're ever in Vegas, stop in and say 'Hi'." Before she could reply he turned and walked off in the direction of Quinn's office.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Grissom sat down in the chair opposite Quinn's desk and just stared at the man. He still wasn't sure how much Quinn knew. And if he did know, how much he could say.  
  
"I hear you're leaving us. Did you get the answers you came for?"  
  
"Enough." Grissom continued to stare at Quinn.  
  
Quinn's eyes drilled into Grissom's, "As far as the CIA is concerned your father died in the waters off of Virginia." Quinn's gaze didn't change. "Is there anything else you need to know?"  
  
Grissom shook his head. "No."  
  
Quinn stood indicating it was time for Grissom to leave. Grissom followed his lead. "Roger is outside. He'll take you to the airport." Quinn hesitated before continuing, "I'm glad I finally got to meet you. I wish it could have been under better circumstances. Your father never forgot about you. Spoke about you all the time. The bright young boy who knew all about bugs and solved the unsolvable crimes. He is very proud of you."  
  
Grissom blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek. Neither man looked at the other. The only thing Gil could say was, "Thank you." He was just about to open the door when Quinn replied, "Have a Dodger dog for me." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ to be continued 


End file.
